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Story : With the arrival of Spring
Back to: The Chronicles A Trio of Travelers :April, 1222 They made a strange group. The short one caught the attention first. From a distance, she seemed almost innocuous. She was young (in truth, all of them were), and stood a few heads shorter then even the other woman. Upon closer examination, however, one was forced to reevaluate her. She carried herself, and her weapons, with the air of one who deserved, even demanded, respect. She was obviously in the position of guard for this group, as unlikely as it seemed. Her eyes were ever moving as she searched for dangers. She stayed near the other woman as much as possible, maybe because the man needed less protection. The man seemed to be enjoying the trek. The spring weather seemed to cheer him immensely, even though the others were immune to its allure. Every now and then he pointed out some bit of flora or fauna, or an interesting geographical feature, always speaking to the taller woman. He didn’t appear to carry any armaments, but he didn’t appear to be counting on the shorter woman’s protection, either. The taller woman was miserable. She was wrapped in the thickest of wool cloaks, but was still huddled over, shivering. None of the passersby even saw her face, or in fact any part of her body. Every now and then she lifted her head slightly to speak to the other woman, always effecting some change to the girl’s positioning. She seemed resigned to a long and uncomfortable journey. The day was a good one for traveling. True, the early spring brings mud, the kind that chills your bones should you find it seeping through your garments. And, true, the sun lacked the intensity it would soon acquire. It was almost a mockery of its once and former self. But as it was the first day in many months that the sun’s rays didn’t reflect off winter’s white coverall, almost everyone felt it was a glorious day. The air abounded with the much anticipated smells that only the early spring can bring. Even the beasts of the fields, and the birds of the freshening winds, jumped and soared and sang with the knowledge that ice and snow were, at least for many months, naught but a distant dream. At long last, even the most pessimistic of souls couldn’t deny that spring was here. A few of the travelers who encountered our group saw even some curious sights. On one occasion, a large wagon. laden with dry goods rumbled by. The horses were at full gallop, and their thundering hooves threw mud all over anything near them. Then the wagon flew by and sent a second dose of spring thaw over everything. The three were sent diving for whatever cover the nearby greenery could provide. As they emerged, the taller woman shot a venomous stare towards the discourteous passersby. At the next moment the horses reared in apparent terror, and the wagon wound up, inauspiciously, on its side in the biggest mud puddle for miles around, it cloth and hay, bags of grain and bales of peat spread out into the puddle, quickly soaking in the filth. The man spoke, very pointedly to the cloaked woman, who shrugged and rejoined her companion. After a time, they came to an inn, and stopped for the evening. Seldom has a more bedraggled and forlorn group entered such an establishment. “Welcome to the Three Lions Inn” sang out a young, feminine voice. “Seat yourselves as you would like, and I’ll find you shortly.” The Three Lions was a fairly small building that had a sense of cozy warmth about its cramped interior, low ceiling, and large hearth. As the content young man and the miserable young woman sat down, they could hear the serving maid asking after those partaking in the midday meal. The armed and armored young woman had peeled off from the group quietly, and taken up position near the door to the outside; presumably she felt it was a better vantage point than the table. She sat in a chair and leaned her head back against the wall, silently observing the room. The fair was a simple but hearty stew and a hunk of bread, and the room seemed to quieten dramatically as the number of people enthusiastically eating increased. Presently, the young woman approached their table with a pot of the stew and a large ladle. "Were you wanting the stew?" she asked plainly. She eyed their clothes as she spoke, trying to guess their means. "Will you be requiring... wine?" she ventured, "or Ale? We have some mead too, if that be what you fancy." Stew and Dumplings Kelydon looked at the serving girl and at her proffered food. He couldn't see it well or the serving girl really. His eyesight, never a strong point, was failing him. His nose however could smell the stew and his ears picked up the fact that she wasn't just a blur like his eyes told him. He nodded pointing to the stew and said, "This.. will be most adequate. And the wine, only a small glass though," he smiled, trying to make an effort, mainly out of habit, to make eye contact. It never boded well to let people know just how bad his eyes were. The serving girl seemed very put off by the three new travellers. She bustled about filling the various bowls that she had recently rinsed. She brought a cup with wine in it, leaving the bottle and a few other cups for the travellers. She hurried away and said a few words to the innkeeper, who more than occasionally glanced at the new arrivals. The girl went to attend to something on the far side of the inn, conspicuously as far from her newest customers as was possible. The Gift never ceased to amaze Kelydon. Why God had deemed it necessary to make mundane animals and folk so put off by those greater than themselves baffled Kelydon. He held no ill will toward those that reacted in such a way. It was in there nature, as his Gift was a part of his intrinsic being. There was no changing it. He did not think the reaction was a curse, but mayhap a protection for the lesser folk granting them a measure of warning against possibly powerful entities. It was just too bad that these people could not tell what a Gifted individual might do with his power. Kelydon would not hurt a fly unless thoroughly provoked, unlike some. At this thought he turned his gaze upon his travelling companions. Ellette was unGifted, a mere woman. Correction, she was not a mere woman, but a warrior of some prowess, certainly. Judging by the power she possessed in her scarred and calloused hands, she must have trained long and hard. She was a pleasant enough travelling companion, however. But there was also, Caprice. Kelydon liked her well enough, so far. She was Gifted and a future Covenant mate, no doubt. Did he respect her? Well, she was rather flippant in her use of the art. She had caused a wagon to turnover, because of a near accident. Of course, the cart had splashed many people rudely. But one must suffer such indignities whilst travelling. Kelydon felt rather bad about what he had said following the event. Kelydon supposed the matter of respect still warranted some further study. Looking at Caprice, he spoke in academically perfect Latin, "Sodale, I wish to offer my apologies for my harsh words earlier. I know you seemed unaffected by them, but my reaction was unwarranted nonetheless." After saying this, Kelydon turned his attention to his cooling stew. "Oh... this is unsavory," almost unintelligibly with his mouth open around a not quite swallowed bite of stew. "I was surprised at your words," Caprice answered. "I am used to being chided for annoying others, or for 'endangering the Order' by teasing mundanes. Your concerns that it is wrong because they didn't deserve to be treated that way are interesting. I shall have to take some time to consider your points." "I just thought it was a bit excessive. But, I should not have been so course in my selection of words. I am usually not a foul spoken individual. I strive to choose my words wisely." The magi finished their meal in relative silence, both conemplating the time recently past and the time soon upon them. Many changes have been faced and conqured, with many more to go. As the night drew deeper, the two headed up to the common sleeping room, Ellette following closely behind her mistress, where they slept, or waited, the night through. The heady air of Spring The first spring, two years prior, had seen them all preparing to join the grand venture of founding a new Covenant. Scarcely a year later, after various expeditions, investigations, and an awful lot of back-breaking effort, the snow had thawed around the small and energetic settlement. This was now the second spring to arrive in this place, and what the thawing snows revealed was a much better established settlement, but a relatively new one nevertheless. For the covenant to be termed "a spring covenant" was very fitting. Like the young shoots growing up quickly in the Sun's warmth, the covenant flourished. The coven folk and craftsmen bustled around energetically in the midday sun and there was a sense of purpose and direction about their collective industry. Only the magi now seemed curiously quiet where before they had been conspicuous by their works and manners. Warren stepped out of his temporary dwelling in the main covenant and looked about, taking a moment to breathe deeply of the spring air. Still a touch of winter chill, he thought to himself. Before him stood a near perfect replica of the top of the Long Mynd, only slightly...sharper, he supposed was the word, and steeper too. The winter snows were melting away, but it was not yet warm enough to go about without some good furs or heavy leathers. The air this morning had the potential that only spring air could have; all the ferocity of a winter storm and all the peace of a summer breeze in a single, heartening breath. The green grasses were poking back through the remains of their long frozen progenitors, announcing their intent to bring spring into the world with as much hurry as growing grass could muster. As with most everything else in this magical pocket, the greens of the grass were greener than anything he'd ever seen. The same was true to the blues and blacks of the sky, the whites of the snow and the stars - it all possessed a purity that Warren would have bet life or limb against its very existence before he'd crossed paths with Phaedrus. Ah, Phaedrus. Warren had spent so much time on the road gathering promises of funds and students with Marcus over the last year or so that he'd had little time to pop in one his first and foremost friend among the magi. He'd fallen out of touch with the strange falconer, but they both shared a passion, and it would soon be the time when Warren could get back to that passion - books. Truth be told, when Warren left his family in London, he really didn't care much one way or the other for them, but as he travelled to this royalty with the magus Phaedrus, he learned that there was much more to books than simply being bored to tears by a forced reading. In fact, books were very, very valuable. And the books that these magi used were beyond pricing! If he could...well, he liked books, now. A visit with Phaedrus would have to wait for the time being, though. He had been serving the monk Marcus in his travels, and while the school was still under construction, he served him still. Warren wasn't sure what his place was in this new covenant of magi, Mons Obscurus, as he'd heard it called, but there was no place better for him to remain than a hidden world. It was the first place he'd felt safe in an eternity. And until he knew his place, his purposes were served very well indeed by him serving others. Warren approached the border between the second and first regio layers and he took a moment to focus his mind on his destination, just as he'd been taught to do. There was a danger in crossing these boundaries, he was told, and the crux of that danger was not having a focused mind. He thought of the fields of sheep of the first layer, and the little settlement of shepherds and farmer's huts as he stepped through the fog, emerging onto a less steep, but just as brilliant, Mynd top. He walked the path through the settlement and then to another edge where he focused yet again, this time on the walled courtyard and soon to be garden of Schola Strettonis. He emerged behind some awkwardly piled walls of dirt, but not too far in the future, a garden would be planted in this yard, an that garden would help to conceal the comings and goings of any coven folk who might have need to travel. He'd taken to eating breakfast at the worksite, nearly complete now, and meeting with Princeps Marcus for their travel there. Warren wasn't sure what the spring season held in store for him, but he'd little doubt that it would be interesting. He stepped into the large meal room of the school, mostly vacant now, and scanned for the Princeps. As was often the case, the easiest way to find Marcus was to listen; the magi-monk sang almost as easily as he breathed. After a moment, he found Marcus in front of the school looking down the Mynd with an expression of happiness on his face. He broke off the song, some tune in his native Gaelic, to greet Warren. "Good morrow, my friend. Is it not a glorious day? The wonder and power of the Lord is apparent in everything around us." He beamed beatifically at the school, the chill top of the Mynd and the distant figures of the Strettonians who had begun their day with the dawn down in the valley. "It is indeed a glorious day, Princeps. The winter was...interesting, but I am glad it is behind us." Warren gestured to the school. "Good progress is made, here as well. It should not be long before we start to see students, I think." Warren paused a minute. "I sense that we have more work to do. Alicia has requested that I seek out some specific books. I was wondering if you have any tasks for me, as well?" "Books, yes," said Marcus. "And supplies, we'll need wax tablets for the students." Marcus listed a few other supplies that would need to be gathered at some point. "Mostly," he concluded, "we'll need students. You might also keep an eye open for teachers, though. As we gain more students, Alicia won't be able to handle them all. And, of course, there are subjects she's not qualified to teach." Warren let out a sigh, somewhere between relief and something else. "Then it shall be done, Princeps. I think I shall focus a bit more on learning the lore of this land, as well - perhaps that might lead us to more valuable resources or unusual students." Warren paused in though, a brief smile crossed his lips, "Of course, there are other...Hello? What have we here?" As the Princeps looked to where Warren motioned, they saw one figure, a ways off, walk back down a small rise, out of sight. One thing he was sure he saw, Warren though, was that the figure held a shield. Mons Obscurus at Last The next morning, The distinctive travelling partners continued on from the small inn and headed for the Mynd. "Are you sure this is the way?" Kelydon often, not always, had a problem with finding his way. Landmarks did move after all, or so Kelydon thought. He fully intended to prove this using a laboratory at some point. He remembered how his Pater had been so amused by his consistent lack of orientation. Belidonis had even placed spells of location on Kel at various times, so as to be able to locate the wayward apprentice when the inevitable task of locating him was necessary. "I b-b-b-b-believe I see the s-s-s-school we are s-s-s-seeking, Ma'am." Ellette was peering over a small rise as Caprice and Kelydon caught their breath. Climbing through hilly territory, at the end of their long journey, seemed a cruel joke."There are t-t-two men who appear to b-b-b-b-be w-w-w-w-waiting, unar-r-r-r-rmed. The r-r-r-r-risk is m-m-m-m-minim-m-m-m-mal." Her native tongue, Italian, sounded strange in the cool spring air of England. The stutter was painfully clear, even to Kelydon, dispite his inability to decypher the language. "She is boasting again, isn't she?" observed Kelydon. He was finding it frustrating listening to the women’s' conversations and NOT QUITE being able to understand. The differences between Latin and Italian were a bit too pronounced."It would be interesting to let her go in alone, assuming they are magi. How is it she has such little respect for the abilities of the magi? Has she never seen the raw power a member of the Order can harness?" Caprice's ever-present smile grew broader. "You haven't ever seen me cast a spell, have you? I am much more subtle than that. But Ellette has seen some interesting sights." After the magi had taken ample time to regain their breath and their feet, Ellette once again took the lead up the steep path, towards the waiting men. The small company toiled up the last of the trail which had been beaten down by the heavy traffic of the last year. Ahead of them was a building site for a rather large stone building. The walls of the site seemed to vary in condition from a half-completed foundation trench through to a fully finished stone wall. Great efforts had been made to finish at least a complete of rooms fully so that the workers had somewhere to take shelter and store materials away from the rain and wind. Overall, to his untrained eye, it looked as though at least half the place had been completed. The sorry looking site was clearly not the covenant they sought. In fact, only two figures could be seen. One was a short man, several inches shy of five feet, blond and striking looking with a quick grace. Next to him stood a stout man clad in simple monk's robes, his touseled dirty-blond hair cut with a tonsure that could use a little attention. As the company drew close, the monk hailed them in heavily accented pidgen-Welsh, delivered in a rich and musical voice with a lilting cadence. "Good morning," he cried, "and God's blessings on you." He pointed back at the building, "Come about the school?" He caught sight of the heavily armed woman in the group and added softly, for Warren's ears more than anyone else's, "or perhaps not." "Salve, Sodales. I am expected, I believe? My name is Caprice ex Jerbiton, filia of Arcturus. My companions are Kelydon ex Bonisagus, and my shield grog Ellette." Kelydon glances at Caprice, a slight frown appearing. "I am Kelydon ex Bonisagus filius Belidonis. I may have forgotten to tell Caprice my Pater's name." A forced smile crossed his face. "We are of course, assuming that you recognise the significance of our titles?" Kelydon watched the monks eyes looking for any signs of recognition or lack thereof. "If not, we may have a long walk ahead of us." In Welsh he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more natural sound in comparison to the Latin he had been using. "Your school seems to be coming along nicely. This is an unexpected surprise. If it wasn't inappropriate to a first meeting, I would wring any information about it from you in a most unflattering way." An infectious smile replaced the frown he had been wearing. "I would love to be able to address you appropriately..." His hands held out in an open questioning fashion. He seemed to use his hands quite a bit as he talked, but only for emphasis and counterpoint. Meeting a Magus ex Monte Obscuro The monk replied, in excellent Latin, "Perhaps it would be best to continue in this langauge, since my Welsh is not up to finer points of debate. I do indeed recognize the significance of your titles, and recognize one of your names." His eyes flickered to Ellette for a moment. "I am Marcus Severus, called Scriptor Carminis, filius Julius Parvo Elemento, sectator Jerbitonis. It is always a pleasure to meet a fellow follower of Jerbiton, and, of course, a Bonisagus. Pardon me, for a moment." He turned to Warren and spoke softly in Latin, "Could you notify the other magi of the arrivals and perhaps it would be as well to let Geraldous and Geoffrey know, if they are around? I'd particularly like Mnemosyne to come if she is free." "Etiam, Princeps." With a grin, and a gazes that lingered just a little too long on each of the women, Warren turned and walked towards the school, and out of sight. Returning to the new arrivals, Marcus continued, "Sodales, forgive me. Have you any bona fides?" "My Pater foresaw the need for identification." At this the young dark haired man produced a parchement bound with a cord affixed with a seal. He handed this to Marcus, who could see the symbol upon the seal was a modified version of the traditional Bonisagus seal of crossed keys. "No doubt, this should suffice? I apologize for coming unannounced. I joined with Caprice at her last covenant stop, and we left prior to being able to forward any correspondence." The young Bonisagus seemed genuinely distressed. "Thank you," Marcus examined the seal carefully, then did his best to slip it up undamaged, with only moderate success. He examined the text within carefully, then tucked the letter into his scrip. "With your permission I will hold on to this for the moment. Warren should return shortly with Mnemosyne, our Guernicus, and I'm sure she would like to take a look at this as well. Kelydon made a dismissive motion, "By all means, it is yours... unless I must leave. But, I would be loath to do that. A young covenant, with a school and a Guernicus? Oh I have a good feeling about this." Again with the infectious smile as he stared hard, squinting at the buildings coming into being. Caprice likewise offered Marcus a rolled parchment, written by her Pater, attesting to her right to all privileges owed a Hermetic Magus. This was sealed with the unadulterated symbol of House Jerbiton. Marcus likewise examined this document, but dissatisfaction was clear on his face. "Pardon me, again, amici mei. You," he pointed to Kelydon, "met this woman - Caprice? - on the road? You did not know her prior to that time?" "Not on the road, at a covenant where I was staying a day or two. We struck up a conversation about our plans, and next thing you know I was coming along with her. We Bonisagus do like to travel occasionally and see whats out there. Your a Jerbiton, you know what I mean. She has been a *slight pause* interesting travel companion, her grog is incomprehensible, but duty conscious." "I see, thank you. I do apologize for all this," Marcus was the picture of contrition. "Caprice, you wrote to say you were coming?" "Yes, I did, sodalis. I sent a letter last fall, stating my desire to come this spring and introduce myself. I had heard that you might be soliciting new members, and I wished to see if this was a covenant that would be happy to have me, and that I would be happy to call home." "Yes." Marcus paused for a moment as if waiting, then turned away to the construction site, "This is, or will be, our school, the Schola Strettonis. Kelydon - did I get that right? - you seemed interested, shall I show you the site while we wait for the others?" "As you can see the construction is not completed yet, but is well underway. The wall there outlines the cloister and garden within, and will serve as a wall for the exterior buildings. To this side will be the cells for the teachers, to that the dormitories for the students. We intend to accept students of both sexes, by the way. Here you can see," Marcus led the way to a complete structure, "is the kitchen - now being used as storage. This are will be divided into two rooms for instruction. Around the back," he walked along with a proprietorial air, "will be the stables and storerooms. Over there," he indicated flat space a short distance away, "I think we shall end up placing a guest house. I hope we shall have some noble patrons who may, from time to time, require hosting." "I-i-i-i-is the one a ch-ch-ch-churchman, or a m-m-magus,? He doesn't seem to make me uneasy the way your kind does" Ellette was looking back and forth from Marcus to Kelydon as they spoke, but the look on her face made it clear she couldn't understand."Are th-th-th-these the ones w-w-w-w-we seek?" Caprice flashed her ever-present smile at Marcus, with a look that said "Please excuse me while I deal with my minion.""These are indeed the ones we seek, Ellette. And let me suggest you continue toaddress me in Italian, even if you learn another language. Many magi would be shocked at the familiarity you use when addressing me." Interuption Phaedrus has just finished instructing the carpenter how the inlaid ring in his writing area should be laid out, a knock sounded by the open door. The magus looked out to find Warren, who said, "My apologize for interrupting you in your studies, my dear friend Phaedrus! Princeps Marcus has greeted one Caprice ex Jerbiton and one Kelydon ex Bonisagus down by the School, and has ask that I let you know." With a smile for Warren, Phaedrus replies "Thanks. Excellent timing, I'll be there shortly", then turns to Edwyn, "Is that clear enough? Good then I'll be off." Phaedrus grabbed his cloak and stepped out the door and into the cool early spring air beside Warren. "Thank you again, Warren. Can you join me?" "Ah, that I could, magus, but I'm afraid I still have a few others to track down. I have been missing our time together, though! Any chance we could get together for some mulled wine and conversation. Much has happened in my travels, and I thought you might enjoy some of the more...lascivious parts!" Warren smiled wickedly and winked. Phaedrus chuckles, "Yes, I'd like that. You are welcome any time." Descending through the Regio, Phaedrus speculates idly what could be the reason for the extraordinary request in the letter announcing their visitors. For good measure the takes the time to make wards against demons and faeries across the path just inside the first and second regio levels. (ReVi lvl 15 resp 16 + dieroll/2, anchored on buried twine.) When Phaedrus arrives at the school their guests are still getting the grand tour and seems very interested in the work on the school. Seeing their interest he deferes a formal introduction and just puts in a quick, ''"Greetings, I'm Phaedrus." and when Marcus runs out of breath continues the tour by expanding on the Regoing parts of the construction. :: This last sentence doesn't make any sense to me. Could you reword it please, Sam? ::: Thats the touble with writing late at night... Greetings When Warren found Mnemosyne, she was not especially amused at being disturbed, but he had her attention quickly. People seldom bothered a magus for trivial reasons, and even less often when a certain maga in particular was more than happy to to explain in long and rather pointed detail how trivial those reasons were. Hearing about visitors and Warren's brief impressions though, she accepted the disturbance. "When the Princeps calls..." she merely said as she took the time to throw on a cloak and accompany Warren. It was good that she had been reading, not experimenting. Books could be put down quickly. Other things sometimes could not. Descending from the third layer to the second, Mnemosyne paused a moment, laying a gentle hand on Warren's arm. "A moment, Warren," she asked. "Did it seem to that these visitors appeared dangerous, or that the Princeps was making some subtle request for aid?" Warren chuckled. "No, Maga Mnemosyne, I do not think that is the case at all. I got the impression that the Princeps was, perhaps, expecting these new arrivals. Perhaps not now, but sometime." "Very well," Mnemosyne nodded and carried on, passing through the Covenant's grounds down the Mynd. As the two walked, Warren noticed that Mnemosyne took a path which took them past the area the turb usually used for practice - a little away from the magi's towers, after some comments about noise had been made. The clash of men practicing the ancient and noble arts of hitting each other with sticks could be heard before it was seen, but rounding a corner they could see the exciting stuff. It appeared as if a couple of younger women were finding it exciting to watch as well. Mnemosyne paused and looked over the turb. Though she had no understanding of martial matters, she appreciated that Geoffrey seemed to be doing a good job, though he was not in attendance at the moment. None of the men were falling over, at any rate and they generally seemed to be able to face in the right direction. Her gaze turned on the two women, Nenya and Nest who were watching, nudging each other and smiling. The maga's gaze bore into them for several seconds, until one of them abruptly glanced up. Mnemosyne slowly looked back at the men, then back at the women and raised an eyebrow. Suddenly the two remembered duties they should be attending to and turned and hurried off. Mnemosyne walked over to the practicing turb. She cast her gaze over the assembled turb, before settling on one. "John. You're with me. Bring your sword and shield, armour will not be necessary." There was no pointing and snapping of fingers. It was all in the voice. Without further explanation she carried on, without looking back, never doubting that her orders would be followed. A further transition from the second layer to the first occurred, and then finally from the first to the mundane, at the point that had been subtly marked as the route into the school's proposed garden. Mnemosyne had not been down to see it person in the last several weeks and was interested to see how the construction was going. The discussed design had seemed sound, though with Marcus describing it with such enthusiasm a hole in ground would have sounded like a palace. She smiled quietly to herself at her sodale's bubbling drive, which was really quite infectious. However, more important things awaited than merely inspecting construction work. Entering onto the mundane layer, she checked that Warren and John had followed her and while John's sword was sheathed, he looked alert. Satisfied, she stepped briskly around the edge of a finished part of the building to follow the sound of voices. Seeing the six assembled, the Princeps had also been joined by Geoffry. Marcus looked quite at ease, Mnemosyne suspected that there was indeed no danger. The woman with the sword was probably some kind of bodyguard. Probably a turb grog, but possibly there existed some kind of more complicated relationship between her and one or both of the others. Either way, her demeanor spoke of protection and alertness, rather than aggression and readiness. It was the other two figures who drew Mnemosyne's eyes quickly. Firstly the woman magi, for now closer Mnemosyne could feel the tell-tale itch of a magus against her parma ever so slightly. She sometimes wondered how it must be for a mundane to feel such experiences so often, and around so many magi. A maga was less common that a magus, but the itch of the gift was much stronger coming from the man - incidently something she had never felt at all from Marcus, something which made him so good at dealing with the mundanes of the area. Mnemosyne's gaze fell heavier on this one for a moment, then she twitched her head to face Marcus. "Marcus," she greeted him with a nod and a cool, business-like smile. "You asked for me?" "Ah, yes. Mnemosyne, two of our sodales have arrived. Caprice, as you may recall wrote to us earlier." Marcus leaned on the word "wrote" just a shade too heavily. "I wanted you to meet them and examine their bona fides, as a formality, you understand." Caprice stood silently as the others offered their names and lineages. The formalities of meeting another member of the Order always seemed so ridiculous to her. Eventually the others' heads turned to her, and she offered, "I am Caprice, filia of Arcturus, follower of Jerbiton."''Dozens of possible small jokes ran through her head, magical and mundane, but her slight sense of propriety told her that such shenanigans must wait. ''"Mnemosyne filia Hironius ex Guernicus," she said, with a slight nod at each of the magi. "At your service." Looking over the documents Marcus showed to her, she scrutinised them carefully, comparing the one to the other. "They seem to be in order as far as I can tell without... unnecessary rudeness." She smiled at Marcus and returned the documents to him to keep or return as he decided. Taking the opportunity of stepping close to him, she added in a soft voice. If you are worried about offering them guest privileges, we could ask that they blindfolded for the crossings of the regio boundaries. It would make it easier for a start, and is a reasonable pretext if you are concerned about security." She stepped back and returned her gaze to the new arrivals, a slightly more welcoming smile on her lips, and let the Princeps make the decision. "Excuse me, Caprice, Kelydon. I need to consult with my esteemed colleague for a moment. As you can see from the state of the schola, we are but a young covenant and still rough around the edges." Marcus drew Mnemosyne aside a few feet. "Is such a thing within our prerogatives? It seems rude, but safety is a concern. Additionally," his voice dropped even lower, "there is the issue of the letter and the grog." Mnemosyne nodded. "We must offer guest rights - though in truth some Covenants are very reluctant to do so and in fact you would actively need to be in a position to press for such. However, there is nothing to say 'how' we must offer those rights, or the conditions we attatch to them, for example disarming or not being privy to our defences. Given that our main defence lies in the hidden nature of our Covenant at present, it is not unreasonable to set this is a condition. In truth, it would be easier to lead them across the regio borders blindfolded in any case. As soon as they will arrive they will realise that Mons Obscurus lies within a regio, but they will not know the details, nor how to penetrate the borders, or even how many borders there are." She nodded to herself, satisfied with her comprehensive answer to Marcus' first question, then continued on to answer his second. "As for the letter," she went on. "I do remember it, and my thoughts at the time the Redcap read it to us - remember it was addressed to the Covenant. I thought at the time the request was strange. With no justification, we have no right to detain any member of the Order. The letter itself may not have originated with Caprice. Both of their credentials appear to be in good order. Quite simply, this is not our affair and to involve ourselves in it would overstep our authority. Perhaps you may wish to raise it later in Council. I'm not sure that the arrival of guests would normally call for a meeting of the Council, but if I recall correctly Caprice at least showed interest in finding a Covenant to join, which would require a meeting, not to mention a sponsor. Perhaps that would be a good time to investigate further. I suggest that if you are going to offer them guest rights over the next three days, then we adjourn to the Covenant proper and allow the travellers a chance to refresh themsemlves and then call them to the Council to attend to such matters there. It does not have a good look for the masters to come flocking to their own door for every stray caller. The decision, however, is yours Princeps." As Marcus and Mnemosyne whispered, Caprice bent her head to Ellette's ear. "Be prepared for anything, my friend, and follow my lead. Remember things will not always appear as they are." Ellette's eyes went wide with alarm, and her hard started immediately to slide down to the hilt of her sword. With great effort, she stayed her hand, and put her faith in the prankstress. Kelydon crossed his arms, tilted his head back and sniffed the air. "What a wonderful place." He thought to himself. He hoped that whatever worried this Marcus fellow would be taken care of quickly. The Guernicus didn't seem that worried though. And what a beautiful voice she had, her blurry shape was somewhat appealing. "Such thing might in the future require further investigation." He smiled to himself and continued to wait as the two talked. Into the Regio Marcus stepped forward and adopted a formal pose, "Caprice, Kelydon - Sodales - it is with great pleasure that I welcome you to Mons Obscurus. It is our obligation and our delight to offer you lodging for three days, during which time we shall be happy to discuss with you whatever business it is that brings you to Mons Obscurus." His voice become less formal, though no less rich and compelling, "In truth, I suspect we will be glad to have you guest with us longer, since we have few visitors and some of us are eager for news. However, prudentia est diligens magistra! To enter the Covenant proper, we have to ask that you submit to being blindfolded for a short time as we travel. If this is unacceptable, then we will be happy to lodge you here ... although as you can see, accomdations at this point are poor. I hope you do not find this inhospitable of us, but the security of our Covenant is paramount. I ask that you pardon us for such a requirement." "A most wise and totally understandable requirement. I humbly accept your hospitality and look forward to seeing more of your wonderful covenant and the lands surrounding it, in due time. I have never said this before in my life, but..." Kelydon snickers a little. "Bring on the blindfolds!" He looks over to Caprice expectantly. ---- Continued Next page: Of Guests and Members New Category:1222 1222Q2 Category:Caprice Category:Kelydon Category:Marcus